Football
by BarbedWire
Summary: The hours after the battle of Hogwarts may not be the best time to discuss sports, but it couldn't be a better time for Luna to remind Dean what they fought for. A moment of fluffiness between Luna and Dean. Written as a Christmas present for CheerUpGothKid. Oneshot.


**Author's Note: Hey! So this was my (late)Christmas present to my super awesome friend CheerUpGothKid, because she is a fan of Luna and Dean and there is a sad shortage of Luna and Dean stories out there. Although I originally wanted to write from Luna's point of view, I realized that there was no way I would be able to write inside Luna's head, so I wrote from Dean's point of view instead. I don't remember what else I had to say here. Reviews would be intensely appreciated. This takes place after the battle, right after Luna helps Harry to escape from the crowded Great Hall so he can get some rest. Luna's probably a bit out of character, and Dean doesn't have much character so I sort of made that all up. This has not been beta'd, therefore I am responsible for all the grammatical errors. I do not own Harry Potter, and I hope you enjoy!**

**-BarbedWire**

Luna and Dean| Football

The dust was still settling in the Great Hall when Dean stumbled in. The room was as crowded as he had ever known it, the four tables filled with people reuniting with loved ones and still looking as though they did not yet understand what had happened. Dean felt just like them. His mind told him that it was over, that Voldemort was gone. He'd seen it happen, and on some level he knew that it had. But for the most part, all he was absolutely sure about was that he was exhausted. More exhausted then he could remember being, even during his year on the run. Gratefully, he sank into a seat in what he was probably the Hufflepuff table, but no one cared about the house separations right now and neither did he. He just wanted to sit for a moment, and perhaps shut his eyes, before he returned to his place in the crowd to find his best friend.

He had just laid his crossed arms on the surface of the table, and set his weary head down upon it when he saw it. She was pointing out a window and seemingly explaining what she saw there to the group of confused and increasingly disbelieving looking people around her. After a moment she shook her head, and removed herself from her seat as the people around her went back to their own companions. She looked across the hall, and for a moment her eyes fixed on him. She smiled at him briefly and he was amazed because it was not at all a hollow act. It was not the sad, deadened smiles that so many had shared out of relief. Somehow, Luna was still Luna enough to have found a moment of genuine happiness.

She lived in another world. Everyone knew that. Most of them laughed at her for it, because she was different and they didn't understand. But Dean had always been fascinated by the things she said, the ideas she believed, the way she moved. It was so unlike everything he'd ever known. In a way, it reminded him of when he was 11. When Professor McGonagall had come to his house to tell him and his family that he was different from everyone he knew; that he was a wizard. After that he'd been whisked away to a world where everything full of magic after that, and nothing worked quite the way it did in his own head. There seemed to be possibility in everything then, the world was bright and shiny and new and anything could happen.

Inevitably the newness had worn off, and though there were floating candles and people transforming into cats, in all the fundamental ways the world was the same as the one he had left. There were wars and death and fights and heartbreak. Magic wasn't quite so magical when you realized it didn't make you any less human.

But watching Luna, he forgot all that. He was no longer disappointed in the lack of beauty in magic because with Luna there was nothing to be disappointed in. She was like the world like when he was 11, where everything was magic and full of hope. He could watch her for hours and never cease to be amazed by it. Even now; even as he sat in the ruins of what was once a beautiful place where there didn't seem to be anything worth fighting for at all; Luna was hope as she moved carefully across the Great Hall towards him. He pretended that he only half noticed when she sat down next to him.

"Hello," she said much too brightly for the situation.

"Hey," he replied, eyes fixed studiously on his dirt coated fingers instead of her face.

"I'm very glad to see that you're alright." She said and at last he turned to her.

"I'm glad that you're okay too." As he spoke he remembered the last few weeks he had spent with Luna. It had been nothing short of astounding to him that after months in that cellar she had been able to be still so much the way he remembered her. Not that he had really known her before, but he'd seen her. He'd always been fascinated by the way she was, and consequently, he'd watched her a lot more than he would ever like to admit. But after these last few weeks, when Luna had become the only comfort he could find from the world, he'd grown to really care for her. He'd never really be able to call her a real friend before even if they had trained together in the DA and she had been good friends with Ginny while he'd dated her, but as they had spent the weeks at Shell Cottage mainly with one another, he'd found her becoming increasingly important to him. At first he had been a little annoyed that Harry and the others were always off doing whatever they were doing and he was left with just Luna. But Luna was amazing, and it hadn't taken long before he'd been grateful for every moment with her. With Luna it hadn't mattered to him that he'd spent the last months of his life running and hiding, or that they had only found each other because they had been held captive in the same cellar. It'd had been almost possible to forget the fear that he'd lived with, or the pity he felt for how long Luna had been forced to live in darkness as she'd babbled on about creatures he'd never hear d of before, and that he seriously doubted even existed. It was more the way she spoke, like a child; filled with enthusiasm and hope. It reminded him of youth, and it gave him more comfort than anything else in the world could have. It was too bad for Seamus that after a year apart, he was going to have to share Dean's friendship.

"Really glad," he admitted as he contemplated just how the dark the world would be without Luna in it.

She smiled at him briefly, but then she fixed her gaze on something in the distance with the familiar dreamy look on her face. He pretended that he wasn't watching her, as she continued to look away, but he just couldn't help himself. Even now, she was beautiful. She turned back to him suddenly, so suddenly that he didn't even have the time to properly pretend that he had been looking anywhere else.

"Tell me about Football." She said, while he blushed in embarrassment at having been caught staring at her.

"What?" he stammered, registering her strange question.

"Football. That's what it's called, right? The Muggle game you like so well."

"Yeah, that's what it's called, but why do you want to hear about Football?" he asked, feeling more confused than he had in ages.

"I've always meant to ask you about it, actually." She began, her blue eyes boring into his brown ones. "How does it work?"

"No offense Luna," he started, wondering why she was talking to him about Football when so much of everything they knew was gone. "But isn't this sort of a crazy time to be talking about sports?"

"Is it?" she asked innocently, as if the idea of her bad timing was a new concept for her. "What are we supposed to talk about then?"

Dean looked around the battered Hall. "I don't know," he answered truthfully. It seemed to be the only answer that he could muster to any question. He had no idea what someone was _supposed _to do after something like that. After spending months on the run, and being held captive, and rescued, and taking part in the biggest battle any one could have imagined, what was there to be said? What was one supposed to say? "What a waste all of this is, I guess."

Luna frowned at him, crinkling her pale forehead.

"What good is that going to do?" She asked, and Dean had no answer. He did not know why, but nothing that Luna said seemed to have a proper answer. It was what Harry always remarked about her, that she had a tendency to state unpleasant things in a casual way that only served to make them even more uncomfortable. He fixed his eyes on her for a long moment.

"I don't know."

"Daddy says it's never good to dwell on the things that have gone badly."

Dean had to struggle to stop himself from chuckling. Which was pretty insane, given everything else that had happened, given that he was sitting here not inches away from the dead and dying. But it was the most hopeful feeling he had had all night, even more so than watching the final fall of Voldemort. It was the purest kind of hope that he could still find the idea of any one calling upon Xenophilus Lovegood's wisdom funny. Surely if he could still find humor in Luna's faith in her father, who believed in Nargles and Crumple-Horned Snorkaks, then the world was not so far lost as it might appear.

"He's probably right." Dean conceded, suppressing his inappropriate laughter. Luna nodded,

"So how does football work?" Dean continued to look at her, his desire to behave as he knew he should in the wake of such tragedy warring with his desire to reach out and take the comfort Luna offered. This was most certainly not the time to be talking about sports. Everything that had happened meant that any kind of joy and games were to be pushed to the back of one's mind, somewhere on the same priority level as sweets. But Luna was right, what good could possibly come from dwelling on the night he had just lived? If there was the chance that happiness could exist again in this world, than he wanted to embrace it.

"Well," he sighed and gave into Luna's blue eyes without further complaint. "Where should I start?"

Dean Thomas could have listed a thousand reasons why the night after the biggest battle in the world was nowhere near the right moment to explain football to anyone. But Luna Lovegood lived in another world, and perhaps in that world there were more important things than inappropriate timing. As he went through the explanations of the players and the rules he thought that his original statement was in need of revising. As long as Luna could still be here, whole and unspoilt and still just as he remembered her, then the world was not so far lost as it could be; because Luna was hope and imagination and happiness and everything that was right in the universe. And watching her, Dean forgot to feel hopeless about the lack of beauty in the world, because with Luna there was no lack of beauty to feel hopeless about...


End file.
